


A Thousand Ships

by Scrimshaw Bones (FloatingWorldPictures)



Series: Time is an Illusion [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Celia has a very bad temper, F/M, Infinity Gems, Magic-Users, Post-Avengers Asgard, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Time Gem (Marvel), Time Travel, Vanaheimr | Vanaheim, everyone hates Loki, everyone is a little bit traumatized, i will add more as more chapters get posted, we are working on it, you guys i am really bad at tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-19 17:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5975869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloatingWorldPictures/pseuds/Scrimshaw%20Bones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping from Thanos and setting things straight with Death herself, Celia is back in New York and desperately trying to make sense of what happened in Asgard.  She's princess of another realm?  She has the power to see the past, present, and future of everyone she touches?  She maybe needs to have the DTR (define the relationship) talk with a thousand year old Norse demi-god who can be kind of a jerk sometimes?</p><p>Good thing she has that shard of the Time Gem hidden away!  </p><p>Meanwhile, time is ticking away for Loki in the deal he made with Hela.  And what the heck is Frigga up to?  (Being awesome, that's what, but also very sneaky.  FRIGGA FOR PRESIDENT)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Problem of Loki

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hi everyone! This is the sequel to my novel-length Loki/Celia fic, Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes! http://archiveofourown.org/works/3869554/chapters/8647456
> 
> This series takes place after the first Avengers movie. It more or less replaces every Marvel film that comes after, although there really is no reason Thor 2 couldn't fit in somewhere after all this if you really wanted to keep Thor 2 in the mix. Although I don't know why you would because who the heck wants to fridge Frigga? Other than that, I try to adhere to MCU canon, but I refer liberally to comic versions of Asgardian goings-on and Norse mythology/Viking culture to fill gaps.
> 
> Click the recommended listening links to check out the songs!
> 
> I appreciate your feedback so please leave comments if you have thoughts, and thanks for reading!  
> (For more of my work you can check out some of my Bucky fics under my Floating World Pictures pseud.)

* * *

 

 _“But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo,_  
_What the hell am I doing here?_  
_I don’t belong here.”_  
[Recommended listening, “Creep,” Radiohead ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFkzRNyygfk)

  
    The chaos that crashed and roared all around him was oddly calming to the steadfast archer who perched on a rooftop in a dense block of 40th street on the edge of Times Square.  Tuning it out helped him to focus.  Knowing full well it would earn him a stern lecture from Captain Rogers on the importance of working as a team (which requires _communication_ ), he pulled off his hearing aid from one ear, switched his earpiece volume way down in the other.  There was nothing in the world now except his bow, practically an extension of his own arm, and an arrow aimed at the eye socket of that horrible creature.  Scores of monsters poured out of a hole in the sky, tore through the concrete jungle of midtown Manhattan, but Clint Barton had learned since the last time.  Deal with the worst one, the rest will fall.  
    He took a deep breath, pulled back his bowstring, and exhaled.  That horrible creature looked right at him.  And then a ventilator turbine by his foot began to grow, twisting into an especially enormous monster that rose up and pointed its weapon at Barton’s chest.  _Dammit_.  Barton adjusted his aim a fraction to the right and released the arrow before huffing a sigh of disgust.  
    The arrow flew true to its mark, grazing Loki’s temple just enough to draw a little blood before lodging with a _thunk_ into the wall behind him.  
    And with that, midtown Manhattan dissolved into a cavernous, empty warehouse.  The simulation vanished with Loki’s indignant shout.  “He shot me!”  
    “Don’t flatter yourself, I shot the, uh, that thingy.”  
    “You shot _me!_   I saw you aim.  There was nothing in front of you but me when you nocked that arrow.”  
    “I like to be prepared for the dirty tricks that slimy little bastards like you pull in these things.  You broke the rules!  You aren’t supposed to magic them into existence just to mess with us, they’re supposed to be realistic!”  
    “Perhaps if you paid more attention to your surroundings and less to shooting at me, you would have noticed it climb up from the building.”  
    “Well, gee, I dunno, then maybe it was just a reflex...from _last time_.”  
    Thor got up from where he had moments before been wrestling a simulated Chitauri and jogged over to his brother to examine the wound.  It was hardly more than a scratch.  But still...  They were all on the same team here.  He turned and gave Barton a reproachful glare.  
    “What happened?” called Steve Rogers from the other end of the warehouse.    
    “Agent Barton shot me in the head!” Loki called back as the team clustered around him.  
    “You look fine to me,” came Tony Stark’s voice from the Iron Man suit.  “I mean, not _fine_ -fine.  You look like the disgruntled manager of a Hot Topic but, you know, other than that...you seem fine...relatively speaking.”  
    Barton did not join the group.  He retreated to the opposite wall of the warehouse and sulkily crossed his arms over his chest.  “Clint,” came a faint voice from the earpiece.  “Clint, we talked about this.”  _Natasha._   He ripped out the earpiece and clenched it in his fist.  
    The group was all talking at once now.  It looked like Thor and Captain Rogers were upset that Barton had disrupted the training exercise, while Stark felt that Loki was being melodramatic to have cut it off over such a minor thing.  Clint couldn’t read Stark’s lips from behind the metal suit, but when Natasha said, “You know he doesn’t miss,” he figured Stark was trying to claim it had been an accident.  Clint wasn’t sure if he was grateful Tony was defending him or annoyed that he was implying Clint would miss a shot.  With an _arrow_.  Please.  
    He stared at Loki.  _Bastard_.  That horrible creature sure looked like hell.  He looked paler than usual, or maybe it just seemed that way because of the dark circles beneath his red-rimmed eyes, and the shadows cast by his sharp cheekbones contrasted his paleness so abruptly.  His black hair was plastered down with sweat, and his chest heaved like he was having difficulty drawing breath.  Oh yeah, Loki looked like hell.  And were his hands shaking slightly, or was that just wishful thinking on Clint’s part?  _Bastard.  Horrible creature_.  It was all Loki’s fault they had to do this in the first place.  What did Clint care if it wore him out to use his magic to construct these simulations for them to train properly against the threat of another Chitauri invasion?  Which would probably also be Loki’s fault, somehow.  
    Captain Rogers was walking over now, pointing at his ears.  “Come on, Barton,” he was saying.  _Oh, right_.  Hearing aid back in.  Time for his stern lecture.  _Worth it._  
    “What was that?  It’s a good thing you missed!  You could have put that arrow right in Loki’s eye socket!”  
    Okay, enough of that.  Clint’s pride deftly overrode his ability to take the out Rogers was tacitly offering him.  “I never miss.”  
    “So you meant to shoot at his head?”  
    “Guess so.”  
    “You could have killed him!”  
    “Yup.  Guess it’s lucky for him I decided to aim a little off that eyeball.”  
    “That’s great, Clint.  So what if you _had_ missed, then?  What if you’d actually shot him in the eye?”  
    “Like I said, guess he’s lucky.  Lucky for him I never miss.”  
    Steve put his hands on his hips and shook his head.  He had that look, that “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed” look that was somehow exponentially more shame-inducing coming from Captain America than anyone else.  
    In hindsight, maybe it hadn’t been a really good decision.  But damned if it didn’t feel good at the time.  _Bastard._  
    “I know this is hard,” Steve was saying, “but we’re working together on this, Barton.  Even Loki.  To make sure that what happened to you last time never happens to you, or anyone, ever again.  I’m not asking you to trust him, but can’t you at least trust me?  We have to do this and he’s the only one who can help us make it count.”  
    Clint sighed.  What choice did he have?  “Aye, aye, Captain,” he said with about as much sarcasm as he thought he could get away with when he was technically the one in trouble.  
    Steve looked back at Loki.  He had no particular like of Loki, but he worried sometimes.  Loki was looking pretty worse for wear lately.  These large-scale, complex, sustained simulations had to be an enormous strain on him.  And avoiding the slings and arrows regularly thrown his way by the team -- figuratively speaking, of course, until today -- was not helping matters.    
    Loki was staying with them at the tower, with Thor in his apartment, as per the negotiation with Asgard to have him here in the first place.  Frigga had gone to the mat for this provision.  Loki was not to be treated as a prisoner.  Certain reasonable precautions would be taken, obviously, and Loki would comply with them as a gesture of good faith but he was there working side by side with Thor and the Avengers and deserved to be treated as such.  Barton felt especially betrayed by this arrangement.  He’d packed a bag and stormed out, preferring to stay in some run down place in Bed-Stuy where he said he had friends.  But after a series of incidents with some Russian gangsters who ran in that neighborhood, Director Maria Hill insisted that Barton return to the tower.    
    That had been a week ago.  And now Clint had already reached a point where he was shooting arrows at Loki’s head.  Something had to give somewhere.  
    “How about we call it a day?” Steve said finally, dismissing the team.  He couldn’t afford to have anyone get hurt in training.  They were all too important to this task.  Even Loki, as much as he hated to admit it.    
    As the team filtered out of the warehouse, Loki slumped against a wall, resentfully waving away Thor’s attempts to assist him.  He wore the dazed, frightened look of someone who just woke from a nightmare.  It was an expression Steve knew well.  He saw it in the mirror often enough, at 3 am when he stumbled into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face after a particularly vivid, nasty dream had wrenched him out of sleep and left him questioning whether he was safe even in his own head.  It was a terrible feeling he wouldn’t wish on anyone, even selfish pieces of trash like Loki.  Captain America’s compassion and sense of duty far outweighed his personal dislike of Loki, who had been, if not exactly cordial, at least perfectly candid and cooperative since he’d arrived.  Steve approached with one hand extended, a peace offering.  Loki was pressed against the cool concrete wall and looked like he was having trouble standing upright.  
    “I’m sorry about Barton,” Steve said quietly.  “He’s having a hard time with all of this.  I know you are, too.  We all are, honestly.  Let me help you up.”  
    Loki glared at the outstretched hand but didn’t shove it away as he’d done Thor’s.  Instead he sighed and said, “I do not require your assistance.”  Haughtiness barely concealed the exhaustion wavering in his voice.    
    Steve drew back his proffered hand.  “I know you don’t.  You’re strong.  I remember,” he laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.  “You pack a real wallop when you want to.  But we’re on the same team now, Loki.  That means we help each other.  That’s what makes us a team.”  
    “A pretty speech, Captain,” Loki pushed himself off the wall and drew himself up as fully as he could.  “Perhaps it would be more effective on one who is part of the team on a more _voluntary_ basis.”  
    Steve nodded.  “You know, none of us _want_ to be here.  None of us want to have to be ready to fight off hostile aliens.  But we have to.  We’re _it_.  And it benefits everyone, Asgard included, for us to work together on this.”  
    “Ah yes, Asgard.  You know, your patriotism is admirable but not exactly infectious.  Captain Rogers, I am here because I have been pledged to you, and I cooperate because I’m told that it will assure my freedom once these exercises have successfully concluded.  To that end, I would appreciate a little more efficiency to the proceedings and slightly fewer delays owing to overt hostility in the direction of my head.”  
    “You’re not our prisoner, Loki.  We’re working together.”  
    Loki wiped the small beads of blood that had formed along the scrape on his face.  “All the same.  I’d rather not remain here any longer than I must.”  
    “Why, you got somewhere else to be?”  
    “As a matter of fact, I have.”

* * *

  
  
    Back at the tower, Thor sat in the conference room fiddling with his bracers while he waited for Captain Rogers, who’d called the meeting, and Maria Hill, head honcho in Coulson’s absence, to finish arguing.  The problem was, as ever, Loki.  
    “Come on Steve, you have to see Clint’s side,” Hill was saying gently.  
    “I know this is rough on the guy, but there’s no room for that kind of thing on my team, Maria!”  
    “No one was hurt.  It takes more than an arrow, remember.  Loki’s made of plenty tough stuff.  I’m not writing up Barton over nothing.”  
    “That’s not the point!  I can’t have him messing around in training like that.  We have to trust each other.”  
    “None of us are ever going to trust Loki.  Do you?  Do you, honestly?”  
    Steve looked sheepishly at Thor.  “I trust Thor when he says that Loki wasn’t in control of his actions when everything happened before.  And even though I know he doesn’t want to be here, I trust that Loki’s trying his best for us now.”  
    “So is Barton.  So are we all.”  
    “So what do we do about it then?”  
    The room grew so quiet that the ticking of Steve’s vintage army-issued Rolex seemed to grow louder with every passing second, amplifying to the super-soldier their inability to spring into some plan of action to quickly solve this mounting problem.  
    “Maybe we should put a pin in this for a while,” Hill said finally.  
    “The problem isn’t just going to wait while we think of a solution,” Steve protested.  “Someone is going to get hurt, Maria, and I can’t just sit here and let that happen.”  
    “I know, Steve.  So maybe the team needs a break from the training.  So no one gets hurt.  These diminishing returns aren’t helping anyone.  Just for a few weeks.  Let everyone simmer down, catch their breath.”  
    As far as Steve was concerned, the sooner Loki finished his business with the Avengers and could leave the general vicinity of the Milky Way galaxy, the better.  But he didn’t want to sound like he was whining about Loki being here when he’d just argued for reprimanding Barton over essentially the same complaint.    
    “I’m not sure that a break will sit well with Loki,” Steve said, trying unsuccessfully to coax some kind of backup out of Thor with a pleading look.  “He seemed pretty annoyed when I called it quits early today, even though he looked about ready to keel over.  I doubt he’ll appreciate a break.”    
    Steve Rogers was very good at a lot of things but bluffing was rarely one of them.  Even he knew this was a flimsy argument, and he could hardly blame Maria for wrinkling her nose at him.  
    “Unfortunately for Loki, I’m all out of give-a-damns when it comes to accommodating him.  He doesn’t run this show.  It’s Barton I’m worried about here.  He needs a break from Loki.”  
    “We need to be prepared for...,” Steve started, frustration creeping into the edges of his voice.  But he couldn’t muster a genuine contradiction.  Hill was right.  They were all reaching their limit and this wasn’t working.  Still, he hated to prolong these exercises.  
    Steve stared harder at Thor, trying to pull a solution out of the god of thunder with his eyeballs somehow.  _He’s your brother.  Do something_.    
    Thor focused with even more intensity on a stray thread edging his leather bracers.  Like _he_ knew what was to be done about Loki?  On the contrary, did he not have about a thousand years of proof that he hadn’t the first idea?  
    “Loki’s very presence here is upsetting to Agent Barton,” Thor said finally.  “But he seemed more able to focus in training when he wasn’t living in the tower, just two floors from Loki day and night.  Perhaps you ought to allow him to reside off-site again.”  
    “Last time we tried that, Barton had half the Russian mafia on his ass within a month,” Hill said wryly.  “The guy’s not thinking straight right now.  He’s been through a lot.  We need him around people who can keep an eye on him, who understand what’s going on with him.  And I don’t need to deal with any more angry cops calling me up saying they’ve got an Avenger who shot up a strip club, or whatever the hell he was doing there.  I just don’t like the idea of splitting up the team right now.  Things are too precarious, _and_ we have that girl to monitor on top of everything else.  Any more magical artifacts or space princesses you want to let me know about, that I’m going to have to _deal with_ at some point?”  
    Thor shook his head.  “The best I can do is assure you that the locket and the stone are both safe in Asgard.  The Chitauri shouldn’t come looking for her here again.  She gave up the locket’s loyalty, so what value to them she might have now I could not fathom.”  
    “Yeah, but the briefing said she gave it to Loki,” Steve reminded them.  “And he’s still here.  And we’re prolonging him being here if we take a break.”  He leaned back in his chair, confident that he would win with this point.  
    “Do not fear, Captain Rogers.  The locket’s loyalties were transferred to my mother before Loki left Asgard.  We would never have put you in that position while you are still so vulnerable.”  
    This left Steve a little crestfallen, so Hill did not quite believe him when he nodded and said, “Oh...well that’s good then...real good.  Good.”  
    “Yes,” Thor agreed.  “So it is settled.  I will keep Loki to our rooms for whatever time Director Hill feels is necessary to allow Agent Barton some peace of mind.”  
    Maria at least had the decency to appear apologetic.  “Thor...no.  I’m sorry but...I don’t think that’s going to work.  Barton needs...more space than that.”  
    “We could return to Asgard until you are ready to resume training,” Thor offered.  “You roll your eyes, Captain Rogers?”  
    Steve was practically spraining his face muscles, in fact, to register his lack of confidence in such an arrangement.  “It was hard enough to get him here!  Negotiations took ages, plus it’s not like you guys keep such good track of him when he’s there.  Look, I don’t want to take a break, but if we have to, I don’t want everyone scattering across the Nine Realms.  Barton stays here, Loki stays here.  End of discussion.”  
    Maria could see there was no point in arguing, and even Thor reluctantly nodded in agreement.  “So it will be back to the tank for Loki, then?”  
    “I’m afraid so,” confirmed Maria.  
    “He isn’t going to like this.”

* * *

  
  
    “I do _not_ like this!” Loki raged, punching the wall sideways hard enough for bits of plaster to flake onto the floor.  Good.  Let Thor’s apartment bear the marks of his betrayal.  “These were not the terms!  Since when does Clint Barton dictate to us?  Since when do they have the authority to renegotiate my accommodations here?”  
    “Loki, I’m sorry, what would you have me do?”  
    “Refuse them!  Take my side for once!”  
    “There are no sides, brother.  We all work together for a common goal.”  
    “Yes, so you all seem very fond of reminding me.  Yet I am the one to be imprisoned in the tank.”    
    He could not go back to the tank.  He’d spent five days in the tank when he first arrived, a probationary period to ensure he wasn’t dangerous.  That he meant to cooperate.  At least, they said it had been five days.  Loki had lost track of time in the tank.  They never turned off the lights.  The white walls seemed to float away when Loki felt unmoored, only to shrink into an oppressive claustrophobic coffin in the next moment.    
    He was allowed no possessions and had nothing to do, but it didn’t matter because he knew they monitored him constantly in the tank and it put him so on edge that for hours at a time he couldn’t move.  Sometimes he thought he heard voices and paced the small cell on the verge of panicking, terrified that Thanos had found him, had invaded his mind again.  He never really slept.  During those five days, the only interaction he had with anyone was for a series of tests to determine the limitations of the magic Frigga had furnished him for these exercises.    
    And they wondered why he looked so stricken all the time.  
    And they expected him to go back there now for an indefinite period of time, because apparently they all hated him so much they couldn’t stand the sight of him.    
    And he had already lost eighty-two days in his deal with Hela.  
    And...and...and the blue forget-me-nots.  The Cure.  _Drink to me only with thine eyes, and I will pledge with mine_.  Think of all those things.  All those memories of her.  Choose one and hold onto it.  Think of Celia.


	2. The Problems of Celia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Celia (and Frigga!) embark on some new jobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time is important in this fic, which can make it tricky to follow. I'm going to start posting a timeline of events at the start of each chapter to help readers (and myself!) keep things straight. For example, this chapter begins just after the epilogue of Drink To Me, weeks before chapter one of A Thousand Ships ("The Problem of Loki"). 
> 
> 0 days - Loki’s deal with Hela (Ch. 18, Drink To Me)  
> 3 days - Celia returns to New York from Asgard (Ch. 25, Drink To Me)  
> 50 days - Frigga visits Hela (Ch. 26, Epilogue, Drink To Me)  
> 55 days - Thor and Loki arrive in New York (off-screen)  
> 56 days - Celia gets into Stark/Avengers Tower and speaks with Thor about Loki coming to New York (Ch. 26, Epilogue, Drink To Me)  
> 58 days - Celia receives a job offer from Pepper Potts (Ch. 2, 1K Ships)
> 
> 82 days - Avengers training exercises are suspended (Ch. 1, 1K Ships)

* * *

_Everything keeps happening_  
_And it's happening to me_  
_I'm losing sight of its meaning_  
_You blew away the meaning_  
[Recommended listening, “Aurora,” Veruca Salt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XJrgTe625PE&list=RDXJrgTe625PE)

 

 

    It had been fifty-eight days since Asgard when Celia got an email from the office of Virginia Potts.  Just two days after she’d managed to talk her way into Stark Tower to speak with Thor.  
     _Dear Ms. Andersen_ , the email read, _Stark Industries would like to extend to you a position as assistant to the curator of art and manuscripts.  Stark Industries has a prodigious collection of painting, sculpture, works on paper, decorative arts, rare books and manuscripts.  Our curator, Dr. Danielle Moore, is currently undertaking the exciting task of researching and cataloging our collection.  We understand you earned top marks in your study of the history of art at New York University and have recently worked as a gallery assistant at Sotheby’s.  We believe you will be a great asset to our team.  Please respond to this email with a time you will be available to come to our offices to finalize the offer._    
    Just like that.  Like it was a foregone conclusion that Celia would accept.    
    Also, it was really weird.  She practically stalked them for almost two months so they decided to offer her a job?  Weird.  Nothing about Loki or Asgard or, hey, hope you’re okay after several near death experiences on various planes of existence all within a week of each other.    
    Bringing Celia to Stark Tower had been Agent Romanov’s idea.  As the one tasked with keeping tabs on Celia, she’d argued that it would be helpful if the girl spent her time actually _inside_ the building, rather than skulking around trying to break into it, especially once this upcoming Avengers training got underway and the team would be occupied away from the city.  
    And that was how Celia found herself again donning her grey suit for a trip to Stark Tower.  She didn’t much care about the job, but no one had put her in touch with Frigga yet and this time she wasn’t leaving without at least some news of Loki.    
    It was a lot easier to get into the building when she really did have an appointment.  Celia recognized Miller, the new guy at the guard desk she had tried to talk into breaking the rules for her with a fake identity, “Celia Rogers, Independent Art Consulting, Inc.”  He gave Celia an encouraging smile when he saw her.  “Hey, I remember you!  How did everything go the other day?  It seemed kind of...intense.”  
    Celia had been intercepted none too gently by a frantic Clint Barton and escorted upstairs via super secret secure elevator by Agents Barton and Romanov.  Thinking back on that, Celia could see how it might look like she was never to be heard from again.  
    “The art world can be very dramatic,” Celia said.  “But everything is great, actually.  Look, they invited me back and everything.  I have an appointment at 4:30 with Virginia Potts.”    
    Celia slid her ID and a pink post-it note with a confirmation number written on it across the desk to Miller.  He frowned when he looked at it.  
    “I thought your name was Celia _Rogers_.  I entered it about fifty-seven times trying to find your appointment the other day, I definitely wouldn’t forget that.”  
    Celia turned bright red.  How could she have overlooked this?  Of course today she was using her real name, since she had a real appointment.  She decided to just lie.  
    “Rogers?  No, that’s weird.  You must be thinking of someone else.  Celia Andersen.  That’s me.”  She made a face to mimic her ID picture.  
    “I’m pretty sure it was Rogers.  I remember because I was trying all these different ways to spell it.  I remember...”  
    The desk phone rang, saving Celia from having to strangle the poor guy, or flash him her boobs or something.  He curtly repeated “yes ma’am” several times, and after one semi-terrified “no ma’am,” Miller hung up the phone and looked at Celia.  He seemed nervous.    
    “That was Ms. Potts’s office?” he said, more of a question than a statement.  “Uh...yeah, so I’m really sorry I kept you waiting.  I...I didn’t know.  You can go up, take the last elevator on the left, floor twenty-seven.”  He handed back her ID.  
    Celia hesitated before she took it, looking around to see if that Agent Barton guy was lurking somewhere.  Or maybe Agent Romanov was following her around.  Because, what was with that _very_ timely and apparently scary phone call?  Were they monitoring Celia from the moment she stepped foot in the building?  The idea annoyed her exceedingly, and her hackles were way up by the time the elevator doors opened onto the twenty-seventh floor.    
    The woman at reception told Celia to go right into the spacious office where a sharp looking woman was sitting behind an unreasonably tidy desk.  She rose and held out her hand.  “Celia, I’m Virginia Potts.  Please call me Pepper.  I’m so glad you’ll be joining us.”  
    If Celia had been paying more attention, she would not have allowed the handshake to go on for longer than a second or two.  She was getting better at controlling the flashes of a person’s timeline she might get if she was in a heightened state of emotion, like right now, but she had to be concentrating to tamp it down.  Distracted-Celia let the handshake linger, and suddenly there was fire.  She gasped and pulled away.  
    If Pepper noticed Celia’s flinch, she let it slide.    
    “Celia, you’re a smart young woman and I see no reason to lie to you.  At Stark Industries, we have a close working relationship with S.H.I.E.L.D.  We like to help them when we can.  Right now, for reasons I’m sure I don’t need to explain to you, you’re being carefully monitored, essentially guarded by S.H.I.E.L.D.  Agent Romanov, whom you met the other day, is the head of your security detail, because she’s one of the best.”  
    “Are you freaking serious?” Celia interjected.  “The red-head?”  
    “Um...yes.  As I was saying, Agent Romanov is one of the best, in part because of the elite training she undertakes.  We thought it might make it easier for her to participate in an important upcoming training if we had you here and accounted for at the tower during the day, while she’s busy.  This building is incredibly secure and evacuation procedures are in place if the need arose.  You would be very safe.”  
    “So you’re giving me a job...?”  
    “Yes.  I thought that anything less would be patronizing.  And isn’t as though you aren’t qualified for this position.  You have experience, you have a degree.  I read your senior honors thesis, it’s very good.”  
    Celia nodded.  “Is there a choice in the matter?  What if I said no, thanks?”  
    Pepper’s lips pressed into a line.  “I’m afraid you don’t have much choice, except that you can choose to be here with something productive to do, which would suggest your cooperation and give you the option of staying in your apartment.  Or, you could refuse and they would just keep you in a secure holding facility.  Cooperation comes with a lot more freedom, if I were you I would take that option.”  
    “Fine.  I’ll take the job.  I’ll even cooperate,” Celia smiled sweetly.  “On one condition.”  
    “What’s that?  I’m sure we can work out whatever it is you need.”  
    “I want to talk to Frigga.  In Asgard.”  
    Pepper stared at her for a moment, sizing up what Celia wanted out of this request.  Celia briefly considered that Pepper was probably not very unlike Frigga.  They were both powerful women who had to work around the egos of giant man-babies to get stuff done (Celia had about as much patience for Tony Stark as she had for the Allfather).  _Imagine Frigga and Pepper Potts together in a room_ , Celia mused.  _Terrifying.  They’d be running the Nine Realms before they finished their coffee._  
    “I’m not sure we have the tech required for what you’re asking,” Pepper finally said.  
    Celia crossed her arms.  “I don’t believe you.  Thor is here.  He must have some way to communicate with them.”  
    “Okay, how about this?”  Pepper picked up the phone.  “Amy?  What’s Thor’s availability?  Uh-huh.  Mmmm, okay.  Anything next week?  Well, that’s up to Captain Rogers.  No, I know but if we can just block some time... Uh-huh.  Yes?  Hang on.”  She turned to Celia.  “I can book you and Thor for next Thursday at three.  Will that suit you?”  
    Celia blinked.  _So, what, Thor has an Outlook calendar now?  That Pepper Potts’s secretary manages?  What the heck is going on here?_  
    “Next week?  He’s so busy he can’t see me until next week?”  
    “He’s away.”  
    “I just saw him like two days ago!”  
    “He’ll be back next week.”  
    “He can fly.  He can take a few hours to come talk to me.”  
    “He’s asked us not to disturb him.  He’s with Dr. Foster, you may have heard of her?”  
    Celia huffed and crossed her arms.  “Fine.”  
    Pepper turned back to the phone.  “Yes, that will work.  Block an hour for Celia.  Thanks.”    
    “How do I know that was all even real?”  
    “As soon as we get your email set up, I’ll forward the meeting to your calendar.  Now let’s take you down to Judy in HR.”

* * *

  
    “So just like that, you have a job at Stark Industries?”  
    “Yeah, they just hired me on the spot!” Celia said before taking a long sip of her bubble tea to wash down some of her guilt.  She was sitting with her best friend Jenny, telling yet another lie.  Can you still be someone’s best friend if you constantly lie to them about everything?  
    “Wow.  That’s...pretty insane.  You work at Stark Industries now.”  
    “Guess so.”  
    “Well, I’m glad you were able to get a good reference from Sotheby’s even after you took off without telling anyone and got fired.”  Jenny did not tend to be passive aggressive unless she was really upset by something.  The story Celia had used to explain her sudden absence was that she believed she might have discovered some distant relatives in Norway, so she impulsively went on a trip to look for them and was so caught up in things that she didn’t think to check in.  It was in a way adjacent to the truth, sort of, but still a pretty flimsy story at best.  Jenny was barely buying it, and in any case she felt very hurt.  It was bad enough for Celia to maybe be lying to her, worse still that she wouldn’t even think to call her best friend in the world with something this important.  
    Celia’s conscience writhed uncomfortably.  “Uh...yeah.  Well, my boss was pretty understanding.  Family stuff, you know.”  
    “Yeah, I know.  I mean, I don’t _know_ because you didn’t _tell m_ e, but yeah.  I know.”  
    “Come on, Jen...”  
    If drinking bubble tea could be an expression of anger, Jenny was doing it right then.  She concentrated hard on stabbing the tapioca pearls at the bottom of her cup with her orange straw, refusing to look up even though she could feel Celia’s imploring gaze.  
    “You could have told me,” Jenny said to her cup.  “I would have dropped everything to go with you, Seelie.  I’m your best friend.  I’m here to support you.  I love you.”  
    “Come on, Jen.  I love you, too.  This was just...something I had to do on my own.”  
    “Yeah.  You’ve had a lot of those somethings lately.  I need to go.”  
    “Jenny...”  
    “Not everyone can just blow off their internships, Celia.  I have to get to work.  I’ll text you later.”

* * *

  
  
    Celia had been waiting at her desk for fifteen minutes to meet with Dr. Moore.  She twirled around in her chair a few times and then checked her email again.  No new emails since two minutes ago.  And that had just been the Stark Tower daily messages email.  The eleventh floor bathrooms were being renovated and there was a new flavor syrup at the coffee cart this week.  _Good to know_.  So far this job was pretty boring.  She checked her email again.  
    From: Danielle Moore  
    Subject: Welcome! First day to-do list  
    Dr. Moore sent her apologies for missing Celia’s first day (“I’ve been held up at off-site storage.”) and asked her to read all the documents marked with her name in the art database.  
        Judy in HR had helped Celia set up her passwords and showed her the basics but no art databases had been in the tour.  Clicking around her computer, Celia didn’t find any documents with her name.  She twirled around in her chair a few more times, mentally upgrading the job from boring to moderately irritating.  After watching a few cat videos on YouTube, she shot an email to Dr. Moore asking for further instructions and then decided to go check out the new flavor syrup at the coffee cart.    
    When she got back to her desk, there was another email from Dr. Moore.  It turned out that she was held up at off-site storage _in Malibu_ and would be there for a few more days.  Celia spent those days sipping cinnamon mochas (the new syrup flavor) and reading the object files on dozens and dozens of artworks.  Tony Stark had very bad taste in art.  You could pinpoint the moment he started working with consultants to buy better stuff just based on the files.  Suddenly there was a lot less Leroy Neiman and second-rate Impressionists, a lot more actual art.   
        Every evening on her way out, Celia wondered if Pepper had been lying about Agent Romanov and the guard detail.  Because no one ever spoke to Celia as she came and went from the building, except sometimes Miller would wave to her if he was on duty.  No one seemed to follow her home.  No one called her or checked in.  This was disappointing only because Celia thought Agent Romanov might know something about when Loki was coming to New York.  If she could just touch Agent Romanov for a moment, maybe she could glean some useful information about Loki.    
    Celia was going crazy not knowing if Loki was okay, where he was, if he thought of her.  Every night, she spent hours trying to coax something useful out of her shard of the Time Gem.  Wrapped in Loki’s green shirt with tears of frustration streaming down her face, Celia would concentrate as hard as she could on the feeling of him laying beside her, the rise and fall of his breath lulling her to sleep, their hearts beating in sync.  
    Sometimes she would catch flashes of bright white, but when she tried to tease something more out of the image, it merely intensified.  This frightened her, and the image disappeared with her broken concentration.    
    She didn’t sleep well after that.  
    On Thursday Celia had her meeting with Thor.    
    “Wow, look at you.  Nice jeans,” she greeted him.    
    “You are teasing me,” Thor replied with a slight smile.  
    “A little.  Sorry.”  
    Thor was generally good natured about teasing but he didn’t have a lot of time for it today.  “I understand you still wish to speak with my mother.”  
    “She’s the only one I trust to tell me the truth about Loki.”  
    “Why won’t you trust me?”  
    “Because you think you know what’s best for him, but you don’t.”  
    “You have my word that he is unharmed.  He is safe.”  Thor tried to smile reassuringly.  “I know he misses you.”  
    Celia did not smile back.  It made her heart hurt to hear this.  “Can I talk to him?  Where is he?”  
    “Is there nothing I can say to ease your mind?”  
    “No.  In fact you’re being really evasive and I’m trusting you less by the second.  I want to speak to Frigga.  Please.”  
    Thor sighed.  “I will tell her.”  
    “What?  No!  That’s not good enough.  I know you can talk to her any time you want.  I want to talk to her now!”  
    “There is more happening in the Nine Realms than your petty dramas!” Thor said, anger seeping into his voice.  “My mother has her hands full with more important matters than this.  As do I.  Not everyone can afford to be as selfish as you and Loki have been.”  
    Celia stood frozen.  Thor was very intimidating when he shouted, and she had not expected this from him.  Despite him being so obviously powerful, Thor always seemed very measured.  He was polite even when he didn’t seem to like her exactly.  Celia considered that perhaps she was asking too much of him, to upset his composure this way.  
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered.  “I just...”  
    “No, Lady Celia, it is I who must apologize.  I should never raise my voice to you.  I am sorry.  I will not let it happen again.”  
    “It isn’t just because of Loki, you know.  I kind of miss her too.  Your mother, I mean.  I could tell her things.  And she made me feel like it would all be okay because she had it under control, you know?  Because she’s a mom and that’s what moms do.  I don’t know what to do.  Everything has been totally out of control ever since I...”  Celia’s voice broke.  
    Thor reached out to put his hand on Celia’s shoulder, and then changed his mind and drew it away.  But when Celia burst into tears, he gently patted her on the back a few times.    
    “No one understands,” she sobbed.  “I don’t know what to do now.  Everything is different.”  
    “I will tell her.  I promise.”    
    Celia leaned into Thor’s touch at her back.  It was brotherly and comforting.  It anchored her new identity into place, affirmed that everything that had happened made sense somewhere and that there were people out there who knew what to do.  Loki and Frigga and even Thor would not let anything terrible happen to her.  She and Thor may not see eye to eye on things but he was good and safe and...and...  
    And suddenly a flash of guilt ripped through Celia’s mind like lightening.  She saw Loki’s face, wild with anguish, pleading and accusatory all at once.    
    Celia pulled away from Thor’s hand, fighting to keep her emotions in check, to keep from an outburst that would do no good.    
    Thor was lying.  Loki was not unharmed.  Not if that face was fixed so vividly in Thor’s past.  Celia silently counted out her breaths, a dumb technique she hated from Jenny’s yoga classes but that she grudgingly had discovered helped her put things back in order after a vision threw her mind into disarray.  
    “Are you alright Lady Celia?”  
    Celia debated touching Thor again to try pulling more context for the disturbing vision from his past.  After all, it could have been a moment from any number of incidents between the brothers over the past several centuries.  It didn’t necessarily happen recently.  Unfortunately, Celia was not yet able to explore time in a focused enough way to be sure anything she saw would be linear or pertain to what she was looking for.  
    “No.  I’m not alright.  I need to talk to Frigga.”

* * *

  
    Preparation for Odinsleep was always a little frantic, no matter how far in advance things had been planned.  This was mostly due to Odin thinking up something else he ought to do before his sleep, not telling anyone what that thing was, and then neglecting the things that had already been planned for him to do.  And then he would get angry at the palace staff or at Frigga because things weren’t getting done and that he had to do everything himself.  
    “But darling, you’re meant to be meeting with Heimdall right now,” Frigga patiently reminded her husband after overhearing him shouting at his clerks, threatening to banish the lot of them to Svartalfheim for their incompetence.  “The reason these documents haven’t been reviewed is because they weren’t on the list.  We decided that I would look at them while you sleep, remember?”  
    “They should be on the list!  I should look at them!  We should discuss them before I sleep!”  
    “Very well, I will add them to the list.  Now go speak with Heimdall.”  
    Frigga was worried about this sleep.  She couldn’t shake from her mind Hela’s warning about the last one.  _The barrier near permeable.  I could almost touch him.  It was tempting..._   She hoped her diplomacy with the Queen of Hel would be enough to dissuade the temptation.  
    But it wasn’t just the fear of Odin never waking that made this sleep so fraught for Frigga.  He had been putting it off the last time, they had been unprepared.  This time wouldn’t be so dire.  No, this time it was something else.  With both boys gone, the burden of rule would fall to Frigga.  This in itself was not remarkable.  It had happened before over the years, and Frigga was a formidable and respected queen.  
    But never before had she been planning to commit high treason while her husband slept.  
    Frigga looked around the study, taking in the complete disarray: reports from Vanaheim scattered across the desk, a plan to raid Muspelheim for errant fire demons stacked on the floor, the blueprints for Stark Tower on the wall.  It seemed an apt representation of the state of the Nine Realms under Odin’s rule.  It was never supposed to be like this, barely contained chaos under a single rule.  It was no wonder the World Tree was such a desolate place now.  Its harmony with the universe was being strangled away, whittled down to a single note lost in the wind.  
    Was it treason if it was for the Allfather’s -- for everyone’s -- own good?


	3. Of Monsters and Meowing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, secret messages are passed.  
> (See Chapter 17 of Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes if the secret message is too secret!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. This fic has been left to languish for...a really long time. As I explained to someone in the comments, this is partly because of my insane work schedule and partly because of a personal loss. But I do want to finish and I can't tell you how much I appreciate the people still reading and waiting for this to continue. I don't want to promise I could stick to any regular updating schedule but I have a new chapter for you here and I can promise I will keep writing until the end. It is very encouraging to hear that people still want to read it, so thank you to everyone.
> 
> The timeline is really important because we've jumped around a bit and it's been a while, so here's where things are:  
> 0 days - Loki’s deal with Hela (Ch. 18, Drink To Me)  
> 3 days - Celia returns to New York from Asgard (Ch. 25, Drink To Me)  
> 50 days - Frigga visits Hela (Ch. 26, Epilogue, Drink To Me)  
> 55 days - Thor and Loki arrive in New York (off-screen)  
> 56 days - Celia gets into Stark/Avengers Tower and speaks with Thor about Loki coming to New York (Ch. 26, Epilogue, Drink To Me)  
> 58 days - Celia receives a job offer from Pepper Potts (Ch. 2, 1K Ships)
> 
> 82 days - Avengers training exercises are suspended (Ch. 1, 1K Ships)
> 
> 85 days - Celia meets Bruce Banner (Ch. 3, 1K Ships)

* * *

 

_Please could you stay awhile to share my grief_

_For its such a lovely day_

_To have to always feel this way_

_And the time that I will suffer less_

_Is when I never have to wake_

[Recommended listening, “Wandering Star,” Portishead](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEQNAZGoZrw)

 

 

         _Does emptiness have a sound?_  

         _It does.  Yes._ Loki tilted his head, listening intently at the white walls of the tank.  He involuntarily recalled the various sensations of _emptiness._ It is blinding.  It feels like searing.  It smells like flesh.  Tastes like blood.

_It sounds like screaming._

* * *

 

“He’s screaming again,” Hill said into the phone.  “It’s been two days.  He hasn’t slept in two days.  This is worse than last time he was in there.  Are you sure he can’t take some sedatives?”  She paused, a grimace of annoyance pinching her face.  “Yes, I realize you’ve never conducted clinical trials on Frost Giants but, how much worse than _this_ could some Valium be for him?  He keeps screaming something about a Titan...?  Does that mean anything to us?  Well, look in the files, we must have something!  Get Thor!  _Now.”_

* * *

 

Celia jolted awake, with screams echoing in her head and the taste of blood in her mouth.  Her skin prickled uncomfortably and she blinked in the blinding light of the morning as she looked around, trying to get her bearings.  She’d fallen asleep on the couch again.  At least this time she’d used a pillow.  Usually she fought sleep until exhaustion overcame her and she just sort of slumped over sideways and woke up with a painful crick in her neck.

         Celia wasn’t much of a morning person even under the best circumstances, but lately she’d barely been sleeping.  Fortunately, Dr. Moore still hadn’t returned from Malibu and there really wasn’t anyone supervising Celia much at work.  If she rolled in around eleven, no one seemed to mind.  They were three hours ahead of the West coast, anyway. 

The annoying prickly feeling refused to leave Celia’s skin, and by the time she got to her desk her ears were ringing, and she’d barely finished reading her email before her mouth felt dry.  Was she getting sick?  What was going _on?_

         By one o’clock Celia felt certain that she would go crazy if she didn’t get away from the claustrophobia of her cubicle.  _Time for a cinnamon mocha._ But before she could fish some cash out of her purse, someone knocked on the cubicle partition surrounding her desk.  “Excuse me?”

         “Yes?  Oh!  Are you here to set up the microfilm machine?” Celia asked. 

         The man looked flustered.  He pushed his glasses up on his nose and adjusted his rolled shirtsleeves.  “Microfilm machine?  Wow, they still make those?  Uh, no.  Sorry.  I’m just looking for Dr. Moore.”

         “She’s not here.”

         “Oh...okay.  Could you tell her Bruce stopped by?”

         With his name, the man’s identity clicked in Celia’s memory.  “Bruce Banner?”

         “Yes...I’m sorry, have we met?”

         “Not exactly, no.  I’m Celia, I’ve been working here for a few weeks.  I’m helping Dr. Moore with the cataloguing...”

         “Oh, you’re _Celia?_ Of course you are, hi.  It’s nice to finally meet you.”

         Celia laughed at Bruce’s earnestness.  “You make me sound famous or something.”

         “I’ve heard a lot about you from Natasha.  And Thor.  And I don’t think Tony ever forgave you for some remark you made about his height.  I’ve heard _all about_ that.”

         “Wow, not exactly the presidents of my fan club.  Don’t believe everything they tell you.  I’m delightful, I swear.”

         “Well, you seem to be the only person in several realms that Loki seems to like.  I guess that’s not much of a ringing endorsement either but --”

         Celia froze.  “What did you just say?”

         The desperation in her tone made Bruce freeze as well.  “I...uh...don’t think I was supposed to say anything,” he mumbled, retreating slowly to the door.

         “But you did.  Have you talked to Loki?  Where is he?”

         Banner sighed and ran his hands through his hair.  “Look, I don’t want to say anything I’m not supposed to.  They’re doing their training, I know you know about that from Pepper.  But I stay out of it.”

         “Dr. Banner, please,” Celia begged.  “Please just tell me if he’s okay.”

         Banner hesitated.  “He’s...they’re not hurting him or anything in the training.  It’s not like that.  It’s just simulations, you know what he can do.”

         “That’s not what I asked.”

         After a few awkward seconds of silence, Celia tried a different tack.  “Could you maybe give him a message from me?”

         “I can’t make any promises.”

         “I know.  But if you can.  Can you just tell him that I miss him and that I...wait, no,” Celia shook her head, an idea coming to her all at once.  “If you can, just tell him _miau miau._ ”

         “Meow-meow?  What’s that some kind of code?”

         “Um, no, not exactly.  It’s not a code.  I mean, it’s just an inside joke.  I think it will make him smile.  Or, I don’t know, I hope so anyway... Just, _miau miau._ ”

         “ _Miau miau?_ ”

         “Will you tell him?”

         Banner hesitated.  But Celia looked so imploring, and Loki had looked so miserable the last time Bruce saw him.  What harm could meowing at him do?  “If I can.”

         Celia nodded in thanks, forcing herself to keep still in this small triumph.  Because Dr. Banner had all but confirmed that Loki was, in fact, _very_ nearby.  Not just “in this realm” nearby, but near enough that someone not participating in this training they were making him do could have talked to him.

         She hoped Loki would get the meaning of her message.  _Miau miau.  I’m going to find you and we’re getting out of here._

 

* * *

 

         Pacing in ten square feet didn’t feel very satisfying, but it was more about movement than destination.  Loki had to keep himself awake.  He was on guard when he was awake.  More able to resist.

         Something was in his mind.

         From the moment he was alone in the tank, alone with nothing but the horrible, searing emptiness, he knew.  Something was creeping into that void.

         It whispered to him.

         _You have heart._

And Loki briefly considered ripping out his heart, so it would stop saying that.

         He was weak here.  Vulnerable.  Thanos the Overmaster, the Mad Titan, with his sadistic lackeys like The Other, with his vicious daughter Nebula, they would come for him here where he was unprotected.  They would snatch him from this emptiness just like before.  Loki knew it.  They would take him and use him, and not being able to fulfill his deal with Hela would be the least of his concerns.  And there might have been a time he wouldn’t have cared so much about what happened to himself, but now...?

         Now there was Celia.

         He missed Celia so much.  He wanted to think of her, but he was scared that whatever was in his mind would know, would find her in his thoughts.

         She was brave and strong and determined, but she wasn’t a match for Thanos. 

         So Loki sat very still for hours and concentrated on not thinking about Celia, not repeating to himself the litany of happy memories he had of her.  It would have been less painful to rip out his heart than to systematically eject from his mind his thoughts of Celia.  Those thoughts had been the one thing keeping him tethered to some sense of self and safety since they parted.

         The Titan would come for her, too.  Loki knew.  When he thought of Celia caught in the searing light of Thanos’s cruelty, his own body shook involuntarily, anticipating the agony of the person he loved most in the entire universe suffering because of him.

         Maybe he should be used to that by now.

         And he was here, defenseless, like a conduit for this voice that could belong to no other.  The voice that was not his own, that promised to bring death and destruction to this realm, through Loki, as it did before.  Every whisper promised the undoing of the self and security Loki had only just begun to piece back together for himself.

         And so he paced.  And sometimes he screamed.  Because these things filled his senses so the voice could not hijack his mind.  The sensory depravation of this chamber that they were so convinced kept them safe from Loki and his powers would be their downfall.  Loki felt the voice slowly burning him up with fear, felt himself dissipate into the emptiness like smoke on the wind.

         _You have heart._

_No.  Rip will it out._

         They couldn’t blame Loki for it this time.  He never asked for this.

* * *

 

         Bruce Banner looked tired and wary in the sterile control room where S.H.I.E.L.D monitored the tank.  He looked tired and wary most of the time, to be sure, but this place wore him out especially.  It reminded him of the inevitable.  Bruce knew Tony had built it for him.  It was designed like a sensory depravation chamber.  It wasn’t a bad theory, actually.  The Big Guy typically made his appearances when Bruce felt threatened.  Not much can threaten you in a room devoid of stimulus. 

         So then why did Loki look so overwhelmed, so terrified?  Bruce peered at the large screens where surveillance feeds from the tank appeared.  “He okay in there?”

         “There’s nothing in there that can hurt him,” a tech replied with a shrug.  “He sure hates it, though.”

         A painful feeling gnawed at Bruce’s guts.  He didn’t like Loki, personally, but it didn’t escape his notice that this was the second time they’d confined Loki in a cell meant for Bruce.  Rarely did Bruce Banner think of himself and the Hulk as the same person, but in this case, he struggled to separate the two.  Or at least, when he looked at the anguish in Loki’s face, it occurred to him that perhaps Loki was as fractured as he was.  Maybe the monster that came out of Loki was as beyond the demi-god’s control as the Hulk was out of Bruce’s.  Maybe Loki resented that side of himself as much as Bruce did his own. 

         “There’s plenty in there that can hurt him,” Bruce muttered, to no one in particular.  Whatever was hurting Loki, it was inside of him.  That much seemed evident, at least to Bruce. 

         “Can I talk to him?” he asked the tech.

         All of the Avengers had full security clearance to all parts of the building that were occupied by Stark Industries.  Technically, the tank belonged to Stark Industries.  But Loki’s presence here was sponsored by S.H.I.E.L.D.  Dr. Banner did not work for S.H.I.E.L.D.  The tech hesitated, unsure of which purview this request fell under. 

         Celia had said that the joke she wanted Bruce to relay would make Loki smile.  Bruce felt that it was imperative her message be delivered, because if he were locked up in the tank looking as tormented as Loki did just now, he would want someone to come and comfort him.  It was one thing to confine the Hulk during a rage, but this?  It didn’t seem right. 

         Bruce reached past the tech and entered a code into a keypad.  “I’ll just be a few minutes,” he said, deciding that asking forgiveness was preferable to arguing permission in this case.  

         “If Director Hill hears...” the tech began to argue.

         “Tell her to call me,” Bruce cut him off.

         A light over the door turned from red to green and the locks released, allowing Bruce to enter an observation area, where he and Loki could see and speak to one another once the window was activated. 

         Loki inclined his head toward the sound of the door closing, but didn’t turn around.  Bruce could tell Loki knew someone was there, however, because the hunched figure straightened, spreading his shoulders wide and angling up his chin.

         “How are you hanging in there?” Bruce asked.

         “What do you want, Dr. Banner?”  Loki tried to be haughty but he just sounded wan.

         “They shouldn’t make you be in here all alone.  Hasn’t anyone come to see you?  Thor?”

         Loki shook his head as if it didn’t matter.  “He tried.”

         “Who stopped him?”

         With a heavy sigh, Loki let his shoulders slump again.  “It doesn’t matter.”

         “I know,” Bruce said, not unkindly.  “I know you don’t want to see any of us.”

         “So why are you here?”

         Bruce tapped the thick, unbreakable glass that separated the tank from the observation area.  “This was meant for me, you know.”

         “Yes.  I suppose they see us both as monsters.”

         “No.  They only see you as a monster.”  Bruce paused.  “They think I’m one of them.”

         Loki rose slowly, with some difficulty.  He’d been curled in a ball for a while and his legs were numb.  Thousands of tiny needles pricked the bottoms of his feet as he tottered carefully over to the glass so he was facing Bruce.

         “You _are_ one of them,” Loki said.  “Because they’re monsters, too.  We all have one burning inside us.  All it takes is the right spark to ignite it.”

         “What was your spark?  Thor told us about how...how you weren’t in control.  During the invasion.  What unleashed your monster, Loki?”

         Loki looked Bruce square in the eye.  “Pain,” he said simply. 

         “You look like you’re in pain now, in here,” Bruce pointed out.  “Should we be worried?”

         “Yes.  Your Avengers can’t stop it if he finds me here.  And he will.”

         Bruce typically referred to the Hulk as a separate entity from himself, but he got the feeling that Loki wasn’t speaking euphamistically. “Who is he?”

         Loki laughed, a cruel, maniacal laugh.  He went on as though he hadn’t heard Bruce’s question.  “And you keep me trapped in this cage like bait.  He will come for me and the terror he will rain down on your world will be your fault this time.”  And with that Loki turned back to his cot and began shuffling toward it.

         Bruce wasn’t sure how to take Loki’s threat, but he didn’t feel equipped to press the issue.  He was no Natasha.  Loki would have the upper hand in any interrogation Bruce attempted, so he made a mental note to mention it to Hill and decided to change the subject.

         “I know someone who’s looking for you,” he said.  “She wanted me to tell you _miau miau._ Does that mean something to you?”

         Loki paused.  _Miau miau._ Who on earth would send him such a ridiculous message? 

         And then the corners of his mouth twitched up as Celia’s giggles rolled through his mind.  He thought about her collapsing against him with laughter at his vigorous meowing when they read his favorite childhood story about the naughty forest cats. 

         Celia was trying to find him.  That meant they had kept it from her that Loki was in New York.  The smile died on his lips.  Suddenly, Loki was more terrified than ever.  Wasn’t anyone protecting her?  Why were they being kept apart?

         Loki turned back to Bruce, studying him.  Trying to discern how much to say, how much he could trust the shy scientist who had, for some reason, broken ranks to deliver Celia’s message. 

         “Is there anything you want me to tell her?” Bruce prompted.

         “Yes,” said Loki, fighting to keep his voice measured.  “Tell her _miau miau_ from me.”

         Bruce grinned.  “You two are strange.  But I’ll tell her.”


End file.
